


Designation

by hegemony



Category: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Barebacking, Consent Play, Deepthroating, Dissociation, Dry Humping, Dubious Morality, Female Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Partners, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Canon, Reunion Sex, Service Top, Size Kink, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/pseuds/hegemony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's Finn, most days. </p><p>Sometimes reverting can come in handy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Designation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at The Force Awakens kink Meme: ('Finn is Fantastic at Sex' found here: http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=304442#cmt304442) that...I sort of just got carried away with. 
> 
> Spoilers up to and through the end of Force Awakens, Obviously. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, as tend to do during Kink Memes. Also: the first thing I've written in a year. Lord help me. Strangely enough, this isn't a darkfic. I just wanted to write Finn as a very-non virginal character who may or may not have a handle on his identity issues.

Sometimes, it’s hard to shake the place he came from, the secrets he still has. There are edges that don’t quite make sense in his head anymore, if they ever had to begin with. Sometimes, he fights with becoming obsessed with imperfection, the taste of ‘good’ food, the fit of shoes that aren’t designed for traction through blood. He wakes up sometimes, fingers searching for his helmet, the skin on his face desperate for the familiarity of that foam. 

And look, 2187 gets it, okay? 

Thankfully, Poe and Rey seem to have gotten it, too. Something’s nice about that: the fact that they forgive him for acts they don’t even know he’s committed. Besides, it’s not like they’ll believe him if he tells them. They’re slow, easy, understanding when there are things he has never been exposed to in front of him. He hasn’t always been the best soldier, but he has at least always felt like a better man around the two of them. Especially times like now, a sweet reunion for the three of them after months of comas and training and near death experiences or whatever trouble Poe decides to get himself into on a daily basis. 

And this? He knows that it’s really hard to believe that he’s not virginal at this. 

He’s kneeling in front of them, Rey’s familiar robes cast aside and her legs draped over his shoulders. She smells fantastic and she tastes even better and her fingers are sinking into his hair as he explores her with his tongue. He’s set up a good rhythm with her after days of thinking about it after she’d been gone: a gentle graze and then long swirls of pressure around her clit that makes her moan, punctuated with a skilled pinch every now and then. He’s patient, takes his time learning what she likes, how she likes it. 

“Please,” she sighs. “Oh, Finn. Yes, please.” 

It seems to be paying off for the both of them. 

He splays hands against her thighs and presses on. Poe’s hands are broad and careful and impatient, reaching around Rey’s middle to grab a grip on _Finn’s_ shoulders and the nape of his neck, fingers toying the sweat loosened curls there, grabbing for anything to use as leverage as he pushes himself into her depths. 

“Yeah, you’re treatin’ her real good, aren’t you Finn?” 

While he’s adapted to his new name every place else, it feels strange not hearing them moan his numerical designation. 

He ventures lower, to the place her and Poe are joined together, and he pushes his tongue into the spaces between them before tracing the swell of Poe’s hardness as it ascends into her barrel. Behind her, Poe makes a distracted noise of formless pleasure, sounding like malfunction, misfire. 

He smiles at that; he could do this for hours, it’s true. It’s nothing he hasn’t done for hours anyway. The Order always did turn a blind eye to pleasure and it sort of was the only thing to do beside sleeping and training and the menial tasks soldiers did when they weren’t fighting. It’s strange to think of it, now, that mass of anonymous bodies, different skins and cries for release in the darkened core of a planet, but this used to be one of the only things he was good at, back then. The only thing that’s changed now is the fact that Poe and Rey are interested in him, not the anonymity darkness provides. 

Which, y’know, has its benefits. 

Poe’s cock slips free of Rey’s clutches for a second, and it’s tempting to suck her taste right off him. 2187 does more than indulge, takes the requisite breaths to slide Poe as deep into his throat as he can go, bear down so his pilot can ride his face as eagerly as he has taken their Jedi compatriot. Poe moans like he’s been snapped in half, tries to be polite but thrusts a few times to test the waters nonetheless. 2187 tries to hide his amusement in a choke: some parts of human behavior can simply not be unlearned. 

He looks up at Rey, smiles with heat in his eyes and his mouth full to the brim and sees her staring back at him, eyes wide with arousal and wonder. She reaches down, traces his stretched open mouth. The touch is a shock of arousal, and he moans as he pulls away for a breath before returning, not letting up until Poe’s more than just had his fun, twitching flesh sliding back and forth across 2187’s tongue. 

“How can you do that?” She asks. 

“Oh fuck,” Poe groans, “I’m going to—“ 

This part’s always the most enjoyable, 2187 thinks to himself, as Poe’s twitching fingers scrabble for anything to hold onto as the orgasm he’s enduring surges through his body. He pulls away from Poe’s grip, extracting the flesh from his mouth, and there’s a little bit of the briny aftertaste of semen in his mouth but he’s always learned it pays to be civil about this kind of thing. His voice sounds hoarse and, well…cocky to his own ears but he smiles up at Rey anyway, “it takes lots of practice.” 

Chemical resistance was always a thing, with his brigade. Others could be easily drugged, but it seemed as though they had been strong enough to fight biological suppression, even the most basic attempts at it. After a while, there were more pressing things to attempt to control than the need for touch, there was a need to suppress appetite and extend will and stamina. There was endurance and exposure to the elements, but that just made members of the order more ravenous. Everyone was the same and they knew it, and even though it was meant to be unknown to the troopers, the first order brass always did have a fondness for accidental pregnancies, treated it like cattle breeding to do the order’s bidding. Sex was the most sustainable way to keep the numbers flush and the higher ups happy with the Calvary—well, whenever maiming and torturing wasn’t on the agenda of the day. 

2187 often dreamed of how the Clone armies took care of each other, all with the same face and knowledge of their bodies, after he discovered that so many of them were on the Starkiller with him. 

It doesn’t really matter now, as he sits up and smiles at Rey. “Turn around, I’d like to make you come, too.” 

She stares at him as if she’s surprised he’s capable of such words. Maybe it’s that she’s skeptical he’ll keep his end of the bargain. 

“Let me make you come, Rey,” he repeats, his voice a little deeper, his words a little stronger. “You want that, right? I can do anything you want.” 

She twitches for a second and oh, he’s hit a nerve hasn’t he? He looks at her, analyzes the labored breathing, sees Poe’s hand stroking her clit, a light teasing massage that causes her to gasp every now and then. 

“It’s okay,” he continues, “I can be patient. Can you?” 

Poe’s head peeks out into view. He’s sweating, his hair matted down, his eyes soft and his mouth bent into a grin. “Buddy, I think she wants you to make her beg for it.” 

“That what you want?” 2187 asks, reaching for her, pushing his body up against hers, his hands on the place where her buttocks meet her hipbones, and Poe’s splayed her open for him to slide the long column of his erection over all of her intimate places, guided to stay in place by Poe’s fingers on each side. It’s heat and weight and heaviness, and he relishes each bit of it, the changes in texture and slickness, the way he can feel Poe’s erection slowly returning as he nudges against it under Rey’s body. 

She’s still frozen in place, eyes lidded and mouth parted. 2187 isn’t as adept in ways of domination and submission, but he senses that’s not what’s going on here, not really. He leans down, grazes her bottom lip. He knows she’s trying to hold onto this moment, stretch out every second. His mouth slides toward her ear, knows she’ll be fantasizing about this when her shore leave ends. 

“ _Anything_ ” he breathes, “anything you want.” 

He can feel the shiver and clench in every part of her body, her hands and breath and the muscles in her back and the way her clit gently twitched away from his cock for a second there. He smiles at Poe over his shoulder, and the guy looks impressed. 

“Turn around, Rey. Please,” he says, holding Poe’s gaze. 

She nods furiously against his shoulder, and scrambles to pull free of their hands in order to turn around. 

Rey’s body is pretty, lithe and just a little thin, and he slides a hand over the long column of her back as he wraps her naked body in his arms and pushes her down toward Poe, so they’re both flanking her, surrounding her with heat. He lines up with her, and pushes in. She groans with the invasion. 2187 stays quiet, focused. Sound was always a luxury back at the order, and it’s hard to remind himself that he can afford it here and now.

“Is he making you feel good, gorgeous?” Poe asks. 

Rey nods and sobs, “gods, yes.” 

“Good girl,” he soothes. “Let him have you.”

2187 smiles at that, cants his hips so Rey’s body lines up with Poe’s, knows Poe’s legs are moving to make space for the two of them, knows Rey’s hands are reaching for Poe’s hips and the mass of his core, knows Poe can reach up to touch Rey’s breasts if he so inclines. At least this way, they’re all grinding into each other, all three of them positioned for maximum impact, rolling and stroking and throbbing that allows for everybody to be satisfied. 

They’re both gorgeous in such different ways as he watches Poe take her and kiss her deeply, Poe’s hands splayed on her skin and their faces covered by the mess of her hair as she lets it down. 

She gasps, and twitches, and he feels the clench of her around him, the gentle imperative her muscles are giving him. He reaches down runs ragged fingernails up her flank, fits a hand between her and Poe’s body. Her head flies up, rests back on his shoulder, and 2187 uses his free hand to cant her mouth toward his. She’s gone soft-eyed, and she kisses like she’s under an extreme amount of duress, like the pleasure is overwhelming to her on every level. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, his breath hitching wantonly for a little extra showmanship. 

“I don’t want it to stop,” she says, her voice breaking. 

“I won’t,” he assures as his fingers take her sweat-slick clit and roll it, gentle strokes clockwise then counterclockwise, uneven pressure because bodies like the tease. She moans in his mouth, pushes her hips back onto him. Her lips twitch, brought up in a snarl. 

“Finn,” she hisses against his mouth, “oh, Finn.” 

His rhythm causes his heartbeat to rise, his body to flush the sound of his blood rushing into his ears. He holds on, though, reminding himself that this is her pleasure, that he wants her to have it, a gift nobody can take away, not even him. He doesn’t know if he’d want it any other way. 

“Please,” she says, “oh please, oh please.” 

She’s pushing back against him, inside and out, body winding against him, toes curling. He takes a few deep breaths, tries not to give in so much that he cannot recover after, but she makes it hard, clutching at him with the entirety of her, hands and mouth and _cunt_. He adds more pressure. 

“She’s close, Finn,” Poe says, his voice just barely controlled. “God, you’ve done it.” 

He didn’t need to hear it to know, but he’s glad Poe’s as taken aback as Rey seems to be. Her body’s shaking in his hands, scrambling as she falls apart. And then it starts, the long clench of her orgasm, every muscle in her body working together. 

“Want more?” he asks. 

“Gods yes please,” she gasps. “Please yes.” 

He pulls away, turns her onto her back and pushes his face down into her crotch again, mouth affixed to her and fingers sliding in to find that space inside that will make her quiver and turn her cries into screams and he’s always wanted to do this to her, always wanted to find the space beyond twitching, solid muscle and turn it into quivering, elongated ejaculation, her body locking and releasing at the same time. She throws her head back and obeys, unleashes a sound that starts to tear at their ears and she must be tapping back into the force as things across the room begin to shake, and 2187 doesn’t stop until her walls are still, until his face is soaked with her, dripping from his chin and mixing in with his sweat. 

“Stars,” she gasps, pulls him down and traps him in a kiss for what feels like days. “Where did you learn that?” 

“Here and there,” he shrugs and smiles. He’s not a fool, he’s not sure she’d like the answer anyway. Besides, modesty pays, sometimes. 

He looks over to Poe, who’s stuck between pleasing himself and being stunned by the display. “Would you like help?” 

Poe smiles at him, “Think you can do that with me?” 

“I can try,” 2187 says. “Do you want me to—“ 

Poe reaches up and kisses him, immediately. 2187 relishes the first touch of their tongues, moans with the taste and slickness of it in his mouth. His fingers trace over obvious hardness, pressing beyond the skin of Poe’s scrotum to sink right into him. The slickness is jarring, almost inhuman until he remembers that things like Lube here aren’t luxuries either, and that the Rebellion treats its collective like people instead of biomechanical pieces of equipment. 

“So that’s what you’ve been doing,” he breathes, and twists his fingers until Poe’s eyes fall shut and his hips push forward. 

“Fuck,” Poe groans. “C’mon, Finn.” 

“He’s impatient,” 2187 notes detachedly toward Rey. 

She leans up on an arm, her body sweat damp and saited. “Did you expect anything less?” 

“When you have a point,” he shrugs, and reaches down to whisper into Poe’s ear, voice low and soft and a little scared. “You’ll want me to use this hole, right? I don’t know if it’ll be able to take me, Poe.”

He knows Poe enjoys this game, naïve skepticism and warm forcefulness. “It’ll work, I promise.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 2187 asks him, removing his fingers and inserting a thumb. “I mean, I just don’t get it.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“The obvious, Dameron,” 2187 says ruefully. “You’re not ready for my cock.” 

Poe moves to say something, but the thumb inside him slowly stretches his hole, letting it yield and he stops to moan and throw his head back, trying to chase the intrusion. He quiets down again. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“You promise,” 2187 repeats, flatly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Poe says. “Please.” 

“Maybe you should fuck his mouth instead,” Rey shrugs. “Won’t hurt him then.” 

Poe looks over with the kind of expression that can only be loosely described as murderous. 2187 laughs, giddily. “You’re just full of ideas, now.” 

“What can I say?” she says, “I’ve been inspired.” 

“Please fuck me, Finn,” Poe says, gently. “I’ll be okay. I promise.” 

2187 wasn’t ever worried, but he supposes it’s probably time to drop the bullshit. 

He moves to spread Poe’s legs a little wider, bend him a little deeper toward his will. He grabs Poe’s hands by the wrists, pushes them up above his head. Poe nods, repeats himself, “I’ll be okay. I promise, Finn.” 

The resistance nurses saw 2187 naked once, back after that terrifying fight that nearly left him paralyzed. Ever since then, he’s been sort of the sensation of the rebel base, that turncoat storm trooper with the body of a prison planet enforcer and the endowment of a small horse. It’s strange, overhearing the cadence of their whispers change from how he must be a plant, a spy, force-sensitive, a puppy for the newly bred jedi to how they must all look like that underneath the armor, how they all have some genetic engineering to be optimal studs-turned-soldiers. It’s only a little true, but it gets under his skin sometimes. 

And every time, Poe has taken him back to their quarters, the tiny bunks pushed together in private. Every time, Poe has indulged him, let 2187 trap and mount and _stuff_ , wring every ounce of pleasure from them both. 

Like now, as Poe groans when 2187 finally pushes through, in, in, further and deeper still. They’re both exhausted now with how both gentle and unconcerned they’ve been with one another. 

“How’s that?” 2187 asks. 

“I think I can feel you in my throat this time,” Poe jokes. “What were they feeding you back at that base?” 

And then it’s kissing and thrusting and hearing the beauty of Poe’s moaning as he’s Powerless to stop the invasion. His toes curling, his back arching, everything about him a gorgeous, long extension of 2187’s cock. The rhythm is simple enough, a see-saw back and forth that’s angled upward, just so. Poe’s gonna see stars soon. 

“I missed this,” Rey says, simply. “The two of you are beautiful.” 

“Come over here," 2187 tells her. “Come closer.” 

She does one better than that, slides on top of him and his back, her slit grinding against the raised flesh of his scar for a second. He gasps at that, a new intimate sensation in a place he should be embarrassed of, a place that brands him a less than optimal soldier. She flattens herself out against the line of his back, though, drapes her legs alongside Poe’s, grinds her clit into the small of 2187’s back. She’s a quick learner, he thinks, and allows her to kiss the column of his neck and wrap her hands around his wrists in the same hold he has on Poe. 

“Fuck me, Finn,” Poe says, “Stars and gods, yes.” 

“Make it good for him, Finn,” Rey suggests. “Draw it out.” 

2187 smiles. They’re so good to him. He allows himself to lose focus for a second, stuck between Poe’s tightness and Rey’s languidness, the two of their bodies his. He’s nearing the edges of his own orgasm, now, yet again trained to stall his own pleasure for his companions. 

Poe groans, each stroke a labor of independent loving movement that fizzles at the base of 2187’s spine. “Fuck, _Finn_ please, gods.” 

Rey’s nails are sinking into the flesh of his wrists, and clever girl, she knows that about him, too. He pushes harder, tries to manipulate his body to stroke her off one more time as well, a party trick as it ever was one. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Poe’s babbling, body seizing up underneath the ministrations. “Yes, Finn, please.” 

And then it’s there, an explosive combination of friction leading to Poe losing himself between the stretch of their bodies, He comes _hard_ , fingers curling and wrists trying to budge, but 2187 has a good enough hold that it’s moot in this state. His mouth falls open, silently screaming for relief as he floods the space between them with his come and clenches down hard enough it should be able to tear him a new one. 

That’s two, 2187 thinks. Job done, except he still hasn’t come and the tangle of limbs around him makes it really hard to try to escape. He’s sure it’s uncomfortable for Poe, as well, except for the fact that Poe’s legs are spreading and locking into a hold with Rey and oh, well.

“I want you to use me until you come inside me,” Poe says with a gentle determination that suits him, “I don’t care how long it takes you. Understand?” 

Rey makes a pleased purr over that, rubs herself a little further into him. “It’s the right thing to do, can’t have you unsatisfied.” 

How polite, 2187 thinks. He thrusts in again, a gentle rocking back and forth, and he breaks the hold they all have on each other to bring his hands down to frame Poe’s face, card fingers through his hair. Poe smiles, looks utterly saited, as his toes curl under and his back arches and he moans into 2187’s mouth. It’s hard to get away from the truth, hard to not care for his lovers’ pleasure moreso than his own. Poe is soaked through and tired, weakly jamming his hips upward to receive, his mouth trembling against each kiss. He’s getting hard again. 

“Don’t overthink this,” Rey warns, “we’re both fine. It’s your turn.” 

His voice sounds harried in his own ears, “I know, I just—“ 

“Did you need permission, back then?” She continues, “Do you need permission now? Do you need something harder than that? I could help you, if you like.”

He can feel the touch of her creeping into his head, simultaneously soothing and unnerving.

“Is this okay?” she asks. 

“I think so,” he replies. 

“Are you going jedi on him?!” Poe asks. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” 2187 says, reservedly, but Rey’s running imaginary fingers over the corners of his memories, allowing for the pinpricks and the blood draws. She’s looking for something inside him, and it lights everything on fire, all the nerves where he and Poe are joined, lips and cock and skin-to-kriffing-skin. He puts his head in the hollow of Poe’s throat, moans. “Poe. Poe, I…” 

Rey pushes deeper, her voice an echo inside of his head, “You could put your hands behind your back if you wanted.”

He does, and when he’s left rutting into Poe, taking everything he can in this position, it feels like something’s broken loose. He pushes harder, until Poe’s moaning mindlessly and hard enough to be on the edge of coming again. 2187 closes his eyes, pushes forward in the darkness, sets himself on this and wants to execute so badly, wants to find that edge he’s been avoiding this whole time. 

“You can come, you know,” Rey suggests, sounding of the dry accents of the Order, like this is a clinical exercise between the three of them. “You do not need permission, FN-2187.” 

“What?!” Poe asks in out-of-breath surprise, but it’s working, working, as 2187 spreads his legs wider and falls into the sensation until his ears are ringing and he’s forgotten to breathe and the sun has been sucked away into darkness, too, as he comes, shivering and safe and held and _understood_ with his mouth stretched open and his breath hitched. And it’s tiny shoves, trying to fold that last little inch of himself into Poe that makes him tip over the edge, again, the feeling of the two of them coming on each other, in each other, a closed loop. 

Fleetingly, he wonders if this is Rey’s doing, and if she could keep them like this as long as she liked; trapped in each other, trapped in their pleasure. 

“Was that okay?” Rey asks as she slides off of them again, back to her own bunk, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first.” 

“It was fine, I think?” Finn says, as he sits back and slowly, achingly unhitches himself from Poe and turns to lay on his back. “How about you, Dameron?” 

“A little freaked out,” Poe replies, “but damn, that was fun.” 

He leans backward, stretching and yawning as he comes out of the darkness and remembers who he is; Finn again. Finn, surrounded by people he loves and cares for. Finn, who has people who love him back. Finn, who gets to decide what’s right for himself. Finn, in control of whatever stupid actions he wants to put himself through now, including going back to the place he was, the person he was before. Thank stars that he’s found people who will put up with that, even for a little while. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, sleepily, “it was.” 

Finn, in desperate need of a nap.


End file.
